"Pina" the "Perfect" Mom

This year will mark the 14th anniversary of my mother's death. In those 14 years, so very much has happened; events I know my mother would have loved to attend, milestones achieved with which she would have wept with joy, and even some little moments that I sincerely wish I could have shared with her in person. There are other moments too, where I just wish she were here listening or talking me through my thoughts. Moms can be so very good at that.

My mother would have been 80 years old this month. I would always tease her, if her birthday happened to fall on Mother's Day, by telling her that she would only receive one gift. She would give me her famous response, "Maria, I don't care. You don't have to get me anything." Anytime a mom says that, she is fibbing. Everyone loves to receive something, sometime, and more so on special days.

My gifts were always small and affordable, yet endearing. One year, in an attempt to beautify her backyard, I purchased a petite azalea bush. Afraid that we would both kill the flowering poof if it were planted outside, it thrived in her windowsill overlooking the backyard for many years. Eventually it succumbed to our brown thumbs; we were terrible gardeners. Today, my mother would delight in the many flowers and plants that are thriving in my yard, under my green thumb.

My youngest son will graduate high school this summer. While my mother was living, my youngest son was the baby in the family. I have a beautiful picture of the two of them taken on his 1st birthday. She is beaming with her beautiful electric smile, while he is looking on with his cake smudged face and hands. The baby she knew is grown and about to enter the adult world. How I wish she could be here; how I wish I could have one more beautiful photo of them... It rained during my college graduations and during my other son's graduations. In my heart, I have told myself the rain is my mother crying her tears of joy in heaven. I hope the tradition repeats itself, and it rains during my youngest son's graduation.

14 years seems like a long time, long enough to heal a wound. Truth is I do not want that wound to heal. I want to miss her, to remember her, to cherish every moment I had with her. She was my "perfect," beautiful, silly, understanding, heart of gold mom. As I am typing this, my youngest son has called to wish me a Happy Mother's Day. It is going to be a beautiful day.